The Daimon followed the direction of Dite's gaze, eyebrow arching curiously. He muttered, "Youre not going to need one of Apollo's lot, are you?" He'd gotten his fill of them to last him another millenia or so.
Deimos rocked back on his heels, narrow hands shoved into his trouser pockets, his sword like a looming entity at his back. He shrugged with feigned casualness, "an hour. sure. We've all waited this long, haven't we?" And at least Mum was trying something. Unlike everyone else on this forsaken mount.
Glancing at the other items on the marble bench, Dei tried to mentally reason out their uses. "... you need anything else? I'm also good with organs and sacrificial beings."